


Avis

by Knightqueen



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Alternate Universe - Historical, Character of Color, Female Character of Color, Friendship, Gen, Male Character of Color, Male-Female Friendship, Rating: PG13, Suggestive Themes, blackinfanfiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 07:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knightqueen/pseuds/Knightqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aveline de Grandpre was born with the choice to remain ignorant in her freedom or become aware of the world around her. She chose the latter. 10 Prompts, 100-wordish drabbles centralized on Aveline of "Assassin's Creed III: Liberation".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Avis

**Disclaimer:**   _Assassin's Creed III/Liberation_ , and all things related to the franchise, is property of Ubisoft.

 **Author's Note:**  the release of  _Assassin's Creed III: Liberation_  is coinciding along with the time that I'm finally getting a proper education of the colonization of the "Americas". I wanted to jot down two more stories out before the game commenced in kind with its official release when I should be studying, so I hope you enjoy these. Be forewarned there are possible  **spoilers**  as a result of watching an early walkthrough.

* * *

_**Tidings**_  - Mornings were at their hardest the first year of her mother's disappearance. The bump on her head and the dizziness from the fall compelled her to remain in bed, hide herself from the world. Her father couldn't console her; he was rarely there to see that would come out of hiding. She found the key to her bedroom door and barred the servant's entrance for days before her father returned with a spare key and tidings of better days. There would be no better days as long as her mother was missing, not for her, not her father.

* * *

_**Cake**_  – The plate sat on the edge of the table next to her elbow, her eyes wandered the crowded room of the dining hall. Her chest swelled with a single breath and she exhaled in exasperation, boredom finally creeping up on her. Fork twirling in her hand, she stabbed the fluffy confection next to her arm and scooped the frosting from the surface. Bits of the cake fell onto the plate and the tablecloth, Aveline placed the fork in her mouth and closed her lips around the utensil all while she ignored the man drooling off in the corner, aroused at the sight of her eating his favorite desert.

* * *

_**Voyage**_  – "So how does this work exactly?" He asked, fingernails tapping the arm of the chair she sat in. The woman in the white lab coat didn't answer right away, she checked his pulse again and the progress of the synchronization. "As stated before, the Animus allows it's user to synchronize with a particular genetic memory of their ancestor and in a sense, relive those memories as they were the moment they were experienced."

"So, it's a little like the Matrix?" He posed for clarification. The woman in the lab coat shook her head, the ghost of a grin gracing her features. "I wouldn't put it so crudely. Think it of as debunking the egocentric predicament, a voyage into the interconnected world of energy."

"Heavy!" He murmured.

"Yes, well, I suppose for you, it would be," The doctor muttered, pushing him back in the chair and pressing his head against the cushioned headrest. "Lie back, synchronization is complete."

"Alright. Fire her up, doc."

* * *

_**Battle**_  – The world of the Order was a repeated series of firsts.

The first time she wrestled an alligator, she lost her pinky to one its teeth.

The first time she engaged in manual labor of the slaves in disguise, she was whipped for falling behind schedule (and in return, she showed the master the same treatment).

The first time she killed a man, she retched from the unexpected volume of blood and entrails from the blow of the machete.

Her first battle left her shaken with limbs that felt like led and paranoid of everything that approached her as she struggled come down from the adrenaline high.

The first time she met the head of the Order in New Orleans she was stripped of any preconceived notions of vengeance and justice, right and wrong.

* * *

_**Destination**_  - There were nights she dreamt of her childhood and remembered that day differently. Instead of chasing after the errant chicken, she would remain at her mother's side while she fixed her shoe coming loose around her ankle. Her mother would look up from the ground and take her by the hand; Aveline would follow without hesitation, eager to know of the destination of her mother's journey.

The dream provided Aveline no sweeping gesture of kindness, only the reassurance that she would continue to walk with her mother until she opened her eyes or her step-mother woke her up. No matter how short the dream, reality seemed bleak in contrast to that single moment with her mother, engulfed in the sun hot enough to burn the backs of their clothes from their bodies.

* * *

_**Hold on**_  - Madeline, bless her soul, was absolutely flabbergasted by the presence of the man towering over Aveline. One hand placed on her breast, the other clutching her dress, the graying woman looked unsure whether to scream or run for the nearest exit. In any case, Aveline couldn't allow her to do either, lest she alert the wrong persons to their presence within the city. "Madeline, I your help, it's a matter of some urgency," Aveline said, interrupting whatever the older woman was going to say. Ratohnhaké:ton leaned slightly to the left, careful not to jostle the little girl hanging on his back, he settled his gaze on his fellow assassin and inquired, "Is she alright?"

"Yes, just easily rattled by strapping men," Aveline muttered sarcastically. Madeline's mouth closed immediately and her pale skin flushed red, her pride offended. "Hold on, Aveline, I want-"

"I promise to explain everything in due time; right now I need you to fetch Docteur Smith," Aveline placed a theatrical hand on Ratohnhaké:ton's forearm. "This poor slave and his daughter need medical assistance."

"Aveline-"

"Mère, please," Aveline played the card of the miserable lady, eyes shone with tears. Madeline bit the edge of her thin lips, eyes shifting to the right. "There are but so many times you can do this before someone takes notice, my love," She told her. "I will fetch the doctor, but you must promise me to never bring this kind of trouble to our doorstep so often." Aveline smiled thinly and gave her step-mother an obliging nod. "I promise, Mère." As the lady took her leave, Aveline bit the inside of her cheek at the sound of her friend's chuckle. "Such an actress," He smiled.

"I have to be," There was nothing comical about her response despite her grin.

* * *

_**I'm Here**_  - Madeline was not a woman she grew or learned to resent. It had been a twisted fortune that she was old enough to understand the system that catered to men and the desires of her father, Phillip, despite the disappearance of her mother. She did not grow to hate her farther to trying to move on with his life, remembering the discrete attempts to find her.

Whether or not she was taken as a slave once again or simply drifted away from the hardships of her circumstances as a plaçage, was a subject of rumination for Aveline if she allowed her mind to wander. There were no realistic chances of ever finding her, not with the way slaves were catered from auction to master. And if she left willingly, she would remain hidden until she decided to reveal herself. All the while, Aveline fell back on awful truth that no matter how near her father was, the emptiness of her mother's absence was akin to that of a missing limb. She was in one place and her other half was in another.

* * *

_**Lifestyles**_  - "One look at you, and one might mistake you for a lady," Aveline regarded the smuggler with a judgmental gaze. The woman standing before her in men's attire - a flamboyant dress shirt, leather vest and a britches to offset the ceremonial sword in her hand - was a "lady" in her own right, and pregnant one at that. Thus it hardly seemed proper of her to question Aveline's status as a woman.

Their lifestyles weren't exactly healthy ones. Not for children.

The pale-skinned brunette gave her a once over then nodded toward the plantation in the center of the land. "You'll find what you're looking for inside," She told her. Aveline took another moment to press her finger against the fresh cut on her lip, ignoring the coppery taste of blood whenever a drop drizzled down her into her mouth. She would have to be a little more observant of her surroundings the next time; Elise Lafleur should not have been able to touch her with that sword, clumsy as she was with it.

* * *

_**Cleaning**_  - "She done swallowed th' feeling whole, she told herself it was a dream, a message, only ta' come fallin'. Th' tales we tell ourselves to 'cause the end of a means." Aveline regarded the young woman sitting on her legs with a curious eye. Water ran down the side of her arm as she scrubbed furiously at the stain in her dress sleeve. Madeline would have a fit if she saw how she ruined her Sunday best. "What are you talking about?"

Therese looked away from the circles in the dirt she was making and shrugged. "Somethin' I heard when I visited my mistress' chambers."

* * *

_**Light**_  - When she was free running, there wasn't a time Aveline never felt more able. The momentum behind her feet carried her across the gaps of buildings, narrow ledges and the minute seconds the weight of her body was allowed to dangle from a sign. Scaling the tallest structures of her city offered a truly expansive view, intensified by the light of Eagle Vision. Nothing but the wind at her back and her balance to save her, Aveline could see and feel everything moving around her.

How they breathed, when they moved, every sensation was made important with the blink of an eye and the speed of her feet. A bird in flight, watching her prey and her pack scuttle across the ground - disconnected from the whole.

* * *

**(FIN)**


End file.
